Many Happy Returns
by mosylu
Summary: Zoe always pays her debts. Sequel to Sweet Tooth.


(A/N) Like "Sweet Tooth," this is a Wash/Zoe courtship story. Justletting y'allknow.

Many Happy Returns

Zoe brought the crate of supplies to the counter and set it down with a thud. The shopkeeper shifted his wad of god-knew-what from one side of his mouth to the other. "This it?"

"Yes." Shopping for supplies always put Zoe in a grouchy mood, because everybody groused so loudly about what she brought back. But she'd drawn the short straw this time, so she was it.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"'Cause I don't like startin' over."

She gave him a long, cool look. "That's it."

While he scanned away, she passed the time by studying the goods on the shelf behind him. They were the expensive stuff, mostly food that didn't keep, fresh fruit and the like. She really couldn't afford any treats this time, because the profit on the last cargo had been so small. She shook off a bad memory of apples.

Then she saw something silver.

She frowned and stepped to the side, squinting around the greasy shopkeeper. Silver foil glinted at her from inside a plastic bag. It couldn't be . . .

"What's that?"

He looked up, then turned to see what she pointed at. "Candy."

"What kind?"

He looked like he was thinking about making a smart remark, but apparently decided that it would be too much work. "Cuchulainn PBC's."

She'd been right. "I didn't know they sold anywhere but Cuchulainn."

"Don't. Got 'em by mistake three months ago. Damn things don't move. That's my last bag." He squinted at her suspiciously. "Thought you said you didn't want anythin' else."

She put her hands in her pockets, projecting _idle curiosity _as hard as she could. "How much you asking for 'em?"

He thought, which looked like hard work. "Three credits."

She was already paying three credits for all the supplies in the crate. She had only five as her own cut from the job. She knew better than to betray her horror, but she allowed her lip to curl in disgust. "Three credits? For stale candy?"

"T'ain't stale," he snapped. "Everything in that case is fresh as the day it was picked."

She looked at a crate of bananas that were so ripe they looked like squashy turds. "Mhm. I see that." She considered the candy again. "Maybe I'd give you half a credit."

They haggled to a compromise of a credit and a half. With ill grace, the shopkeeper added the candy to her purchases. Before Zoe left the store, she tucked the bag deep into her jacket's inside pocket.

* * *

Zoe climbed the stairs to the cockpit and paused. The door wasn't fully closed, and she could see through the foot-wide opening. Wash sat at the controls, but he wasn't flying. His face was lit from below with an odd pattern of colored light and shade from the various instruments. His hands were out of sight, and he was growling and making weird shrieking noises to himself.

What in the 'verse?

"Ha-ha! Die, I say! Die!" His voice stepped an octave higher. "No! You cannot conquer me! I shall return, I swear it!" His voice dropped again. "That will be very hard to do when you're at the bottom of a cliff!" Back to high. "Aieeeeeeeeeee!" With that, he flung something to the floor. It clattered away, just out of sight.

She knocked on the metal door, and it bonged. He called out, "Yeah, come on in."

She pushed the door all the way open and stepped over the threshold, feeling weirdly nervous. She was just paying a debt, she told herself. Putting something right. No need to feel nervous. "You busy?"

He leapt to his feet. "Zoe!" He swept something from the control panel, and more clatters echoed. "Hi. No. Come in. Oh--well, you're in, aren'tcha." He grinned shakily. "The cap'n want me?"

"No." She crossed her arms and felt the plastic bag crickle inside her jacket. "I was in town today, gettin' supplies--"

His face fell, his mustache drooping too far to be anything but funning. "Aw, don't say it. You forgot all about me and now I have to live on the rats in the cargo hold until our next planetside."

She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, as happened so often around him. "No."

He made a show of wiping his brow. "That's a relief. I don't think there's even any rats in the cargo hold."

"I just--" She stepped forward, and her foot hit something. One of the things he'd thrown on the floor. She automatically leaned down to pick it up. "You dropped your--dinosaur." She studied the plastic toy incredulously.

"It's not mine," he said, and she glanced up. It was hard to tell in the shifting lights, but she thought he might have been blushing. "I--it's for my--nephews. I'm--uh--breakin' it in. You know. So they don't have to do all the work of scuffing 'em up themselves."

"I see." The bright paint was almost worn away in places, and the tip of its tail had broken off. Did he even have nephews? "Of course."

She held it out, and he took it. He held the toy gently, she noticed, cupping it in his two big freckled hands like a treasure, his thumb rubbing absently at the base of one skinny plastic arm. She'd never noticed his hands before.

"My manliness factor just took a real nosedive, didn't it?" he asked, and she blinked.

"I've seen stranger," she said.

"Oh. Thanks. Maybe." He set the dinosaur aside. "So--supplies. Town."

"Yes. I found something. I--" She was getting ahead of herself. She put back her shoulders. "I have a confession."

"Really," he said with great interest. "Is it kinky?"

"It was me ate all the peanut butter cups from your birthday package. Not Bester."

He waited, blinking at her. "Is that it?"

"Yeah," she said, confused.

He laughed a little, but not mockingly. "Well, I knew that."

She stared at him for a moment. She'd been really careful. She'd thought. "But you gave me the last one."

He shrugged. "You wanted it."

It was a moment before she could say, "Oh." She looked away, hoping she stood far enough in the shadows to camouflage the rush of blood to her cheeks. Didn't matter whether he'd known or not, she lectured herself. Didn't matter why. "Well, anyway, I didn't think it was right, you not getting but two pieces of your favorite, and I--" She reached into her jacket and brought out the plastic bag. "I saw this on the shelf, and--"

He stared. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah." She held it out.

He reached out and took it, holding it up to the light as if to confirm its authenticity for himself. "Real--?"

"Mhm."

He lowered it to stare at her instead. "Out here?"

"Well, he got 'em in by mistake. This was his last bag." She moved her shoulders restlessly, trying to downplay her own actions so they wouldn't betray her. "I took it off his hands."

"Wow," he said softly, for once without a joke. "Really, wow. Zoe, this is--"

"Just payin' a debt, that's all," she said flatly.

Some of the light went out of his face. "Oh. Well. Thanks," he said, his voice oddly hollow.

They looked at each other for a minute. The plastic rustled restlessly in his hands.

"I got things to do," she said abruptly.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"See you."

"See you."

She turned to the door.

"Wait! Zoe! We could share 'em."

She went still, one hand on the door handle. Her heart sank. So that was it. He _was_ just like everyone else. It had just taken him longer, that was all.

"That wasn't a pass," he said from behind her.

She turned to give her patented cold, suspicious stare. Badder asses than a red-headed pilot who played with plastic dinosaurs and wore shirts that could be seen clear to the core had withered before that look.

But he withstood its force, still chattering. "Not that, y'know, I'm not interested. I mean, I'm not _blind_. You're really something, you know? And it's not just the warrior-woman thing, it's--" He stumbled to a halt and sighed. "What I'm trying to say here, Zoe, is I don't have designs on your virtue or anything. It's just an honest offer to share treats between friends."

"Friends?" The word tasted strange. She didn't have a lot of friends . . . alive.

"Crewmates? Distant acquaintances? Total . . . strangers . . ."

The candy and the man lured her in equal unexpected measure, twin siren songs that puzzled even as they tempted. She was too used to denying herself--a lot of things--to just give in willy-nilly. She prided herself that she didn't let people matter just like that. There were a lot of assholes in the 'verse. Right now, only Mal sat next to her heart. Someone had to be something real special for her to let them get that close.

Maybe someone who would give a woman the last peanut butter cup he'd have his hands on for a year, just because she wanted it. Maybe someone who thought she was really something, and not just because of the warrior-woman thing. Or someone who actually still used the phrase _designs on your virtue, _and was almost half-serious about it.

Zoe turned back to the door. Behind her, he let out a long, slow breath. "Okay. Thanks again."

She shut the door with a clang, turned, and said, "I'd love to share your candy. Thank you."

Like the sun coming up around a planet, a smile dawned on his face. He ripped the bag open, releasing the smell of chocolate and peanut butter into the air, and held out a piece of candy. She crossed the cockpit to take it.

FINIS


End file.
